READ 


At  the  Grand  Annual  of  the  Philhistorian  Society. 
Santa  Clara  College  Cal.  April  27th.  1881. 


I^EDRO   DE  ALVARADO. 


Pedro  de  Alvarado  pricked  with  pride— 
His  master,  Cortez,  spreading  sail  for  Spain- 
Plucked  at  the  Conqueror's  mantle! 

As  he  stood 

Fretful  and  frowning  by  the  torrid  shore 
He  saw  the  galleon,  lessening  on  the  sea, 
Lost  in  the  lonesome  waters. 

Then  he  turned, 

Ploughed  through  the  heart  of  Mexico  and  sought 
The  tranquil,  the  Pacific,  where  the  gales 
Spiced  with  the  balms  of  Asia  and  the  breath 
Of  many  an  isle  of  luscious  fruit  and  flower 


Fanned  in  his  breast  a  spark  of  hope—to  flame! 
The  palm  boughs  writhing  in  the  vexing  wind 
Made  joyous  music;  and  the  tides  made  moan; 
And  the  bold  breakers  climbed  the  thundering  coast 
Snow  white  with  foam  and  fury. 

Here  he  paused— 

Searching  with  lustful  eye  the  watery  \vaste, 
The  sea  of  Cortez,  the  vermillion  sea. 
Bitter  his  heart,  bitter  his  speech,  as  one 
Consumed  with  envy;  for  the  malcontent 
Hungered  for  battle,  storm  and  victory! 
To  wrest  dominion  from  the  savage  tribes; 
To  plant  his  standard  on  the  uttermost  peaks 
And  bind  his  brows  with  laurel. 

Well  he  schemed! 

Armed  with  imperial  edict  and  with  gold, 
Herding  his  slaves  by  forest,  shore  and  stream, 
Under  the  lash  they  wrought,  and,  ere  the  moon 
Had  withered  to  a  shred  in  the  pale  dawn, 
The  banners  of  his  fleet  rose  on  the  wind- 
Twelve  ships,  a  galley  and  the  lesser  craft, 
Freighted  with  men  and  beasts  and  food  and  arms. 
New  lands,  new  seas,  new  peoples  conquering, 
And  to  conquer  and  blazon  his  name  above 
Cortez!-  So,  young  ambition  lured  him  on 
Perchance  to  drag  from  out  his  golden  house 
Another  Montezuma. 

In  the  hour 

When  the  fair  ships  were  chafing  at  their  chains, 
And  fresh  winds  fluttering  his  slackened  sails— 
The  murmur  of  the  restless  retinue 
Rose  as  the  ceaseless  hum  of  hiving  bees- 
Pedro  de  Alvarado  came  to  shore 
To  say  his  last  farewell. 

Ill  fare,  ill  fate 
Was  his  who  ground  his  heel  upon  the  meek! 


Within  the  hour  that  was  to  crown  his  hopes 
One  of  his  vengeful  vassals  sprang  upon 
The  heartless  chief  and  dashed  him  to  his  death! 
Like  the  cloud  towers  that  crumble  in  the  air; 
Like  the  ice  palace  that  dissolves  away; 
Like  the  live  coal  that  cools  and  falls  an  ash  - 
His  splendid  hopes  there  fell  and  came  to  naught 
And  all  his  dreams  passed  with  him  to  the  grave! 


In  the  long  years  that  followed,  day  by  day, 
The  forked  flames  of  the  meridian  sun 
Sapped  the  wide  seams  of  the  dismantling  hulks; 
Shrunk   the   huge   timbers,   warped  the  decks,  and 

[snapped 

Strand  after  strand  among  the  ropes  that  hung 
Like  tattered  spider  webs;  until  the  masts 
Tottered  and  trembled  when  the  sea  fowl  perched 
Upon  the  mouldering  spars. 

And  night  by  night 

The  mellow   moon    rose  on  the  dew   fringed    sails 
Fluttered  to  ribbons,  silvered  in  her  light; 
Or  fitful  stars,  that  fell  like  golden  rain, 
Slid  down  the  spangled  sky,  and  noiselessy 
Burned  in  the  ebon  waters,  and  illumed 
The  phantom  shadows  of  those  ghastly  ships 
Till,  one  by  one,  they  yielded,  and  at  last, 
With  a  great  shudder,  settled  to  their  doom. 


How  oft,  methinks,  does  thoughtless  youth  set  forth 
With  argosies  to  sweep  enchanted  seas; 
How  oft  the  student  leave  the  mother  house 
Armed  to  achieve  the  conquest  of  a  world;  — 
Yet  for  a  cause,  what  cause  O!  who  shall  say? 
Fast  by  the  shore  they  wreck  their  hopes,  and  leave 
Their  freighted  fleets  to  rot  upon  the  wave! 


t    r ,?  A  / 


